We are all so keenly aware of our own selves, our own grandiose thoughts. Aware of our own pain and suffering. Our own tears. Our own opinions (which are, of course, the right opinions.)
I don’t think it’s until we get “othered” that we get jarred from our own self and start to look at the world around us and begin realizing that our own thoughts and experiences are not the thoughts and experiences of everyone.
I’ve found this to be true every time I’ve moved (ha! Bet you thought I was gonna talk about sexual harassment eh?) In my own head, heart, soul it’s of course the right decision and everyone will be as supportive, affirming, and excited as I am. And each and every time this is not true, because people are experiencing their own emotions, thoughts, facing their futures, etc. Mhmm. Human things and the like.
The last year and a half, amidst my own pain and suffering, my panic disorder, my severe anxiety disorder, I forgot how to be empathic. I’ve always strongly relied on this part of me in the past to help me along in friendships and with the world I encountered. It’s part of why I had such a bleeding heart. But whoosh, away it went. And it’s a muscle not used and is painful to work out once more.
I make people sad and they make me sad. That’s kind of all I have to say right now.